Collection of drabbles that will be slowly growing, of my new favourite crack pairing. Enjoy, R&R, give me ideas and opinions to help expand my rapidly shrinking motivation.

It was as if everyone expected him to walk on water. Aside from the fact something like that was impossible for robots, Wheeljack found it so ridiculous, he very nearly laughed in Ratchet's face. The medic seemed to get the general gist from his amused snorting and puffed up cheeks. Bulkhead had claimed that Optimus was different from other generals, and he'd give him that much. He'd met a lot of high ranking officers that preferred to watch by the sidelines, but at least Prime got his servos dirty, truly got work done, and wasn't afraid of the personal consequences. Wheeljack respected that, willingly listening to and considering the Prime's orders, but very rarely following them. And what he liked was Optimus didn't seem to care; he was flexible, resourceful, easily working around blunders and insubordination.

Wheeljack liked that, respected that, and he didn't use the 'R' word lightly. But the awe-struck gaze and idolising tone the other bots and even the humans gave Prime irritated him. It'd be easier to obey Optimus if he could keep a straight face around the rest of the troops. He wouldn't call them out on it though, no one would recognise that it wasn't disrespect, just logic. He was a follower of Primus, not the Great Creator himself. A disciple, a student and a teacher. Jackie was willing to learn if everyone else didn't kiss the dirt he walked in. Another likeable trait; Optimus didn't class himself above anyone, unless not doing so put others in danger. He didn't protect humans because it was his Primus sent duty, he genuinely cared for these little creatures. "I like you for that."

"Thank you, Wheeljack," Optimus said with a lonely smile. "I appreciate your grasp on reality instead of mythology and rumour." Probably the one thing the Wrecker hated about the God-modelling and starry optics was how they created barriers. They worshipped him, so automatically put themselves below him, leaving him isolated for fear of invoking his kingly pity. Optimus Prime was always alone, and Wheeljack didn't like that. The humans split their devotion between the troops and the general, climbing all over the Prime and teaching him Earth-things. He'd smile, he'd enjoy it far more than anyone dared to realise aside from Wheeljack, then he'd become sad once again when Ratchet or Arcee shooed them off.

"Stop bothering him!," They scolded. "Go play with the others." Wheeljack felt like he was the only one seeing Optimus long for their company, their cheer, and the only one who felt sorry for a Prime. So he marched over himself, and tapped on his red forearm.

"You can tell them you don't mind," He muttered, avoiding sharp optic contact with the good doctor for the sake of his sanity. "They never disobey you."

"I speak, yet nobody hears me," Optimus sighed. "Except you. Thank you for listening." He smiled again, not so lonely as fond and compassionate, making Wheeljack's spark flutter, and Ratchet's optics turn an envious green. Out of good will - he told himself - he repeatedly gave Prime company, to which he'd repeatedly be given that kind smile. The others began to notice, and more and more green appeared in their irises. Bulkhead seemed confused by who his jealousy was aimed at; Wheeljack or Prime. Jackie felt a little guilty for suddenly ignoring his best friend, even with Miko flitting about like the pixie she is.

"I'm not doing it on purpose, Bulk," He exclaimed, trying to maintain optic contact with a mech who stared like he'd slapped him in the face. "What's wrong with talking anyway? You wanted me to get to know him, and that's what I've been doing!"

"It's not just that, Jackie," Bulkhead murmured, looking down at the floor instead. "I don't mind you wanting to get to know him; that's great, it's a huge improvement for you." There was a brief smile between them, an edge of teasing that didn't last. "That's not it. You're not the one bothering me. He is." As if by magic – which Wheeljack definitely didn't believe in – something switched in his body language. His weight went from his pedes to his left hip, his shoulders tensed, unconsciously ready to reprimand his idiot for making accusations about his other idiot. "Don't you see the way he smiles at you? He never looks at anyone like that. Not even Ratchet," The green mech explained.

"How does he smile at me?"

"Like... like how Fowler looks at June," He said. "Like he doesn't see anyone else in the room but you when you talk." Wheeljack hadn't noticed that in that smile. He saw a lonely mech whose authority was misunderstood as godhood, and was relieved that somebody understood. A friendly, kind smile with no infatuation as Bulkhead claimed. But maybe that was just an outside view. "And you know what else?," His partner persisted, making him look him in the optic again. "You smile at him the same way."

He hadn't noticed any of this, and refused to until he was burnt and bleeding in the gravel, holding his chest and hacking up the goo Ratchet said his smokes put in his vents. The vermin bared down on him, maws drooling and slavering grotesquely. He coughed up more energon, glowing cyan mixed with brown mud and white pebbles. "Wasn't planning on digesting my lunch anyway," He wheezed. Smokey engines roared in his ears instead of Insecticon kill-cries, headlights flashed and blinded him before Prime gripped the beast's helm, legs around its throat and choking the air from it, then turned gravity against it and reared back, braising his palms on the ground and flipping the Insecticon in the opposite direction. He sprang back to his pedes, cramming the barrel of his gun into the second's gaping, screaming jaw and opening a hole in the back of its head. Then without a second thought he was with Wheeljack, crouched beside him and checking his injuries.

"Where does it hurt?," He asked, not even considering the possibility that he wasn't damaged, not giving the lone wolf that chance to slip away to lick his own wounds.

"A lotta' places... nothin' Doc can't fix, I know it..." Optimus nodded, then pressed his hand to his back, the other curling around his wrist and helping him stand.

"Come, we have what we need," He mumbled, hastily guiding the wrecked Wrecker towards the Ground Bridge. In the swampy heat of the missile silo, the stares were heavier than the humidity. Yes Ratchet repaired him, even kept the grumbling to a minimum, and left him to re-spray his own paint as Wheeljack preferred to do. What probably made it awkward was how the Prime was never far away, hovering but somehow above something so nervous and possessive.

Hail to the princess, baby!